


La Reine de mon Peine

by Mawkinberd



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, Dom/sub, Explicit Consent, F/M, Ice Cream, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Oral Sex, Painplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26531632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mawkinberd/pseuds/Mawkinberd
Summary: It's been a long week for Antonin. It's a good thing Hermione plans to take good care of him.Written for the Farewell to Summer: 31 Flavors of Smut fest 2020(yay!).Featured kink: dom/subTrope: Body SwapFlavor: Triple MangoNote: I don't own anything Harry Potter, so the only thing mine here is the dirty imagination, and my only payment is kisses and hugs and comments! (My kind of payment, really.)Thanks for sharing a moment with me.
Relationships: Antonin Dolohov/Hermione Granger
Comments: 10
Kudos: 22
Collections: Farewell to Summer: The 31 Flavors of Smut





	La Reine de mon Peine

Antonin was more frustrated than tired, but he was glad it was the end of a long week. The Ministry bean counters were annoying, but pit them against the ruthlessness of the goblins of Gringotts, and the frustration levels could burst through even their high level wards. The goblins had always treated him with respect. They had hired him as a leading curse breaker for a reason, and they didn't keep those they disrespected for long. The Ministry was unforgiving, though. Even after doing his so-called duty to pay for his crimes, the wizards would never allow him to forget that he was on the losing side, even if he was representing the interests of others. He didn't really care about their disdain, but he did grit his teeth at their obstruction. Just so tedious, really. The tension weighing down his shoulders and tightening through his thighs could use a good dollop of whisky and a few hours in front of the fire to help cure the ache. He couldn't expect better from such dolts, but he could mitigate the damage in his own time.

He wasn’t expecting the sudden blinding darkness and the feel of a nonverbal Expelliarmus throwing him back against the door he had just closed, though.

Before he could recover and dodge, a slender wand caught his jaw as a tiny, warm figure pressed insistently against his front, doing little to calm his thudding heartbeat or the tickle of his hairs standing at chilled attention. It did, however, bring a certain heat to his groin.  _ I’ll never get tired of this woman, _ he thought as one of her hands drifted around and grasped the short hairs on the back of his neck. 

She tightened her hold and pulled his head back, sliding her wand around until it traced from the corner of his jaw down to his throat. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing against it as her warm alto voice slid down his body like oil. “Someone isn’t keeping up his guard as well as he should,” she hummed thoughtfully, her voice amplified by his blindness. “Perhaps he wants to be caught. Perhaps he wants to be punished. Perhaps…” She paused thoughtfully, then slid her wand down the front of his robes, warmth tracing his chest, his stomach, and on down to his groin, prodding his cock with a pressure just the right side of painful. “Perhaps he doesn’t know what it is to feel fear for his life.” She seemed to tut before her warmth vanished from his front completely, wand gone, darkness still complete.

“Should I teach you to fear?” she said, her voice darker, unreachable across the room. His heartbeat leapt at her tone, his excitement at her words starting a fine tremble. “I need to hear what you want, darling.” Her last words were almost an aside, but he knew their seriousness.

“Ne me quitte pas, ma reine,” he murmured, knowing what he should say. Knowing what he had to say, what burned inside his heart at her demand. “Jamais, ma déesse.”

This time, he heard the muffled click of her heels as she padded back across the rug toward him, her pace slow and elegant. “I do not think you always respect me the way you should, Antonin, despite your sweet nothings,” she said musingly. “I do not think you have let go of your superiority, darling, and that is something we must handle. I believe I’ve found a way to do that.” Her hand caught his chin between thumb and fingers, turning his face towards her slowly, firmly. “Would you like to worship my power properly this time? I promise you will not regret it.” Her face was now close to his, her breath warming his face slightly.

_ Hermione _ , he thought with a low moan. His heartbeat was so loud now, he was sure it was shouting his anticipation to the sky. “I am yours to command, ma reine,” he breathed.

Her mouth met his in a soft kiss, as though sealing their bargain. He closed his eyes on the darkness as she moved away yet again, taking her warmth. He knew he would have to earn it to touch her again, and his body was now aching for it.

“I have a surprise for you, Antonin,” she said, her voice lilting playfully across the room again. This time, he knew she had gone to her favorite chair. At this moment, it was her throne. “I cannot give it to you, though, until you have stripped.”

He pulled his robes off more quickly than he remembered ever doing before that moment, hands fumbling for buttons. His over robe was simple, but the crisp starched shirt underneath was almost too much in his continuing blindness. It was bothering him more than he had expected to just drop the clothes beside him, as he preferred everything orderly. His trousers seemed determined to defeat him, but once the buttons finally surrendered, he pulled them down roughly with his pants, allowing them to fall before he kicked them away. Already half hard, his cock bounced a bit as he stumbled, but he caught his balance quickly as he shucked his socks. He stood back up quickly with his legs wide and his arms slightly away, knowing she would wish to inspect him.

“Oh yes, darling,” she purred, and he could almost feel her eyes sear down his body. His groin tightened. “You are doing well tonight. I think you might actually be enjoying the idea of being my toy for the evening.” He could only hear his heartbeat for what seemed forever before he finally felt her slap a hand sharply across his left buttock, causing his whole body to clench. It felt like a warning. “Would you like to be my toy tonight?”

“Yes, ma reine,” he said through clenched teeth. He tensed again, then sighed as he felt the tip of her wand begin to slide slowly from the base of his neck down the center of his spine. Tiny stings of pain littered the skin around it as it moved, reminding him of flying sparks. He began to clench again as its path passed his tailbone and traced teasingly between his cheeks, more sparks jumping against his tender skin.

“I don’t know. You seem a bit tense tonight. Perhaps your work this week has been too hectic. Perhaps you need some... relaxation.” Her wand pumped between his cheeks a few times, then withdrew. His breath stuttered. “Maybe I should go unsatisfied tonight.”

“Never, ma reine. I am yours. My pleasure is only your pleasure.” He felt a fine sweat starting to break out across his skin. He wasn’t sure what she had in mind tonight, but she was promising him more than he had expected, and his curiousity couldn’t stand the wait.  _ What is she up to now? _

Her breath on his face again startled him. “I’m sure the suspense is killing you, isn’t it? Wouldn’t you like to know what’s going on inside my twisted little mind? What kind of daring things could I possibly be planning?” She seemed to breathe want into his body with her steely voice. “Surely there’s nothing that strong Death Eaters could possibly fear from a little thing like me.” She gripped his shoulder with her burning hand and pressed behind one knee with her foot, pulling him out of balance. “Kneel, my pet.”

He caught his balance and went to his knees, arms up and hands behind his head. It was tempting to misbehave at this point, but his blindness was still catching him off guard. He didn’t know her tools, what she was wearing, or anything that she’d done to the space. All he could really feel was the carpet abrading his shins. What was she planning?

He was surprised when he realized she was kneeling in front of him as he felt her hands take hold of his shoulders, her lips grazing his own. “I think we need to change the balance of power a bit more,” she said lightly, to his surprise. She wasn't usually one to give up the reins in their games. “I would like to do something that would help with that. What is your color, darling?”

“Green, ma reine,” he said, feeling confused.

“Perfect,” she purred, then her lips locked on his as she pulled his shoulders, her gorgeous breasts rubbing hard against his chest. He only barely managed to keep his hands from reaching for her before he felt her tongue push something juicy in his mouth, something that tasted sweet, rather like tropical fruit. He suckled it and her tongue, then swallowed, feeling his saliva rise as her tongue pressed against his. He dared to lean toward her a little, pressing his advantage. He wasn’t used to a good snog this early on, but he wasn’t going to waste such a gift.

But after he swallowed the juice, he began to feel a bit strange. A plastic, almost liquid feeling ran across his body, and he started shuddering as he felt his limbs seem to condense and his skin prickle. He dropped his arms from behind his neck and grabbed Hermione in panic, but this did not help his disquiet, as he felt her shuddering and changing, too. It was as though she were growing as he was shrinking, but he had never felt such a transformation before, not even with Polyjuice. He moaned, but the sound felt caught in his throat, higher than he had felt it since he was a child.

“Relax, darling,” she said, but the sound of it was changing, too. Her smooth alto was growing lower, almost a guttural growl from the depths. Her arms, too, were holding him tighter, and she seemed to grow more even as he felt smaller.

“What is this, ma reine?” he said, actually frightened. His higher voice made him wince, but it was finally seeming to settle.

“Perhaps we should investigate,” a deep voice said where she had once been. The strong hands on his shoulders loosened, and a hand came around to his front and plucked his nipple, hard.

He was so shocked that he actually fell backward, sitting on his calves for a moment and pulling away from her grasp. His grasp? He wasn’t sure at this point. He lifted his hands and felt his chest. There, where he had once had his wide pectorals, were a pair of smooth breasts hanging heavily over his hands.

“Ah, ah, darling. I’m afraid those are mine.” A low chuckle came from her/him again. “Literally, actually. However you would like to view it.” The breath that blew across the nipple challenged him as a strong hand plucked his own arms back into position and straightening his posture. “No touching without permission.”

He started to struggle, but a light seemed to start filtering in his eyes. He froze, breathless, as the sitting room began coming into view. He was used to Hermione changing the setting for their scenes, but he had never seen the room quite like this, or from this angle. The lights were relatively low, thank goodness, or his eyes would have been dazzled for a bit longer. Although there was the colorful rug that normally covered the majority of the floor, it looked dingy in the near darkness. Muggle light strips flickered and blinked from the ceiling, only half lit against an industrial ceiling of cement and pipes, dripping darkness and decay. The side of the room opposite the doorway was a glass business door front, shuttered and barred, the neon sign blinking “Hot Coffee” in splashes of impossible green and pink. Beyond the scope of the carpet was more cement, seeming to open around the corner to go on to another location. Her throne looked incongruous in its subtle wood carved beauty against the brash, uncomfortable glory of the muggle industrials. Dark, light, blinking.

He knew this place, he realized. He had seen just this corridor once before, after a confusing night of karaoke and drinking. This was the place that changed his views forever. Or, at least, led him to his queen, his raison d’etre.

It was the place where he had saved Hermione from assault not so long ago. 

“Ma reine?” he said tentatively, looking back at the face he knew so well. Not that it was her face. He’d seen the face too many times in the mirror not to recognize it as his own. He was no fool; it was obvious that, somehow, she had managed to exchange their bodies. The feelings might be strange, but he would know her soul anywhere, and he could see it peering through his own eyes. For that was what she was doing now, still locking his hands in place behind his neck, smirking into his face. That smirk had never before looked so sinister as it did now.

She had changed the balance of power after all. But it was definitely away from him. Shock and lust blended in his blood, making him shudder in anticipation.

“Oh, I can see your glorious mind spinning through those eyes of mine, darling.” His bass voice washed over the room, echoing across hard glass. “No need to fret, my pet. I will do many things to you, but I would not attempt to relive assault on you without proper preparation, and we don't have that tonight.” The implicit threat made him shiver. She released his hands from her immovable grip and leaned back on her thighs. “That doesn’t mean a reminder wouldn’t set the scene properly.”

He felt his gut clench again, but this time, a tingling in his nipples arced like lightning toward his groin, toward what he was realizing was his tight quim, his tender pink clitoris. A wave of unexpected heat filled him. It had never occurred to him how different arousal might feel to a woman’s body. How that unconscious tightening of his pelvic floor would cause an ache that almost blinded him with its intensity. How his sudden helplessness felt so much more overwhelming, so much more terrifying, even after facing so many guiltless psychopaths and self-righteous goons, wands raised in anger. For the first time, he felt a fear that had never occurred to him.

He felt the fear, a wholly involuntary fear, of being a woman at the mercy of a man who was physically so much stronger than he was.

His eyes came back into focus at the face across from him. Hermione was waiting patiently, as always, for his mind to peel apart the problem, put the puzzle pieces into place, and return it to his thoughts, full fathomed. “You understand now. You see what I felt, even after all the years of learning to be the strongest I could be, the best with a wand I could manage.” She leaned in closely enough to touch his cheek with her lips, whispering into his ear. “Without a wand, we are but men and women. Just so much flesh, and blood, and fear. Just so many hormones stroking through our guts and nerves.” As she leaned back, her now large hand came forward and cupped his cheek, stroking gently. “You've always been strong. You've never had to feel that sympathy for those who never felt that power. You've never truly been helpless. So, I need to know your color, darling. I need to know you're ready before I take this knowledge from your mind and brand it into your body.”

“Green, ma reine,” he said without hesitation. His heart was racing now, pounding in his chest, his nipples, his clit. He almost mewled in lust. “Please, teach me. I need this.”

Her coffee colored eyes narrowed, then she was on her feet. He had never realized before how much taller his body was than hers, but now he could feel every inch. Her two enormous hands grabbed his wrists, and before he could breathe, she had snatched him to standing and turned him around, one hand holding his wrists above his head, another wrapping around his waist and cuddling that strong body to his back. He could feel her arousal pressing against his spine and felt an unexpected quiver.

Her voice rumbled in his gut. “What were you thinking, going through a place like this unattended?” Her lips mouthed his ear, dipping a tongue to taste. “You are strong, but even the greatest warriors need someone to watch their back in an ambush.” Her hand crept up from around his waist and began kneading a nipple, switching back and forth between twirling and plucking. “Well? I’d like an answer, pet.”

He cleared his throat. “Ma reine, I didn’t think…”

She plucked his nipple hard. “That’s right, you didn’t think. Or maybe you didn’t care that you were risking something that is mine?” She plucked again, this time on the other nipple. The sensation was screaming through his skin. He whimpered.

“Or maybe you assumed that I would be here to save you. Maybe you assumed that I would be here just… for… you.” She punctuated each word with a light slap to each nipple. “Perhaps you should answer ton roi. Now.”

“I don’t know, mon roi.” He began to squirm as the little plucks increased in strength. “Please, I don’t know!”

She turned and pushed him toward the glass door at their side, pulling up on his wrists as his body slapped the glass. A quick sticking spell, and his hands were stretched up to barely hold the lintel with his fingers, holding high on his toes. He yelped as the cold of the glass seared his skin and made his nipples harden impossibly, feeling as though they could bore through glass. She stepped away, leaving him hanging there for a moment. He turned his head to the side and could see her looking him over, admiring his arse.

“You do know,” she said conversationally, “that you should be punished. No one is allowed to risk what is mine, not even my darling pet.”

“Yes, mon roi,” he said, so breathlessly, it was almost a whisper.

“Do you deserve to be punished?”

“Yes, mon roi,” he repeated. “I deserve to be punished.”

“Are you certain? I wouldn’t wish to be cruel.”

“Please, mon roi. Please.” His voice was beginning to feel the strain. “I deserve it, I need it. Please!” He felt something like a sob hitching in his chest. “Remind me that I am yours.”

She stalked towards him slowly. He was so tense, he startled when he felt her long, broad hand grab his arse and squeeze. It took him a moment to relax into the motion, but he tried to catch his breath. In, out. The scent of her was driving him mad, sweat and cologne and hard man. Her short nails raked against his skin and let go again.

“I think you should count these. Just to show your appreciation, of course.” She rubbed the other cheek, grabbing it as she had before. “Are you ready?”

Before he could say yes, the slap echoed around the room. It stung more than hurt, but he jumped in shock. “One. Thank you, mon roi.”

A harder slap across the other side, this one lower across the meat. “Two. Thank you, mon roi.” His voice was starting to stutter.

The next one was more centered, but lower, across the crease between arse and thigh. “Three. Th-thank you, mon roi.” The contrast between the heat on his buttocks and the chill glass was building a storm across his labia, and he could feel the moisture gathering. Each hit was adding more and more pain, which transformed into a heat that he was fighting. But even more than that, the helplessness of his position, the adrenalin that came with it, was fueling him beyond his experience, maybe beyond his ability to cope. He tried to hold on and hold back.

It was a losing battle.

By the time she had hit nine, Antonin was losing place of the numbers in his mind. His face was smashed against the window, his tears sticking his skin in place. He was twisting on his toes, trying helplessly to spread his stance, to tilt his hips so the heat could spread to where he wanted it. By seventeen, he had lost the fight against sobbing. As a man, he was proud to be able to stand his pains without a whimper or a tear. Now, he almost couldn’t breathe, the air fighting thickly against his throat. By the twenty-first slap, he was a mindless pool of want, a clear glass of need that only wished to be filled by her touch.

It took several moments of gasping for him to register that his punishment was complete. She had gone to her knees, kneading both buttocks with her large hands, her thumbs pulling apart his cheeks and rubbing deeply. The pain was lessening, but the warmth was turning to Fiendfire as she brushed his red skin, his moist red lips with her fingers.

“You have done so well,” she said, blowing cool air across skin. “I think you might actually have learned your lesson.” Her thumbs began to focus more on spreading his cheeks. “Maybe you would like me to kiss it better? For taking your punishment so well?”

“Oh, please,” he sobbed brokenly. “I beg you, mon roi. Please touch me.”

Her tongue answered immediately, starting at the tip of his tailbone and working its way forward as her thumbs pulled his flesh apart. She took her time, making a long, wet lick across his tightly closed hole, his tiny taint, his weeping vulva. Her tongue stabbed into him, and he felt for the first time the sensation of someone invading his body that way. His shocked groans only grew as she proceeded nibbling up his lips and finally to make a circle around his clit. He shuddered and nearly lost his footing.

“Moi Bog!” he shouted, turning to his mother tongue in shock. The tension burst across his body, starting at his groin and turning everything into steel touched with lightning. Everything, anything he was feeling was touching his cunt, building between his legs with every silken squirm and prod of her magnificent tongue. Her fingers joined with a slow pumping in his virgin passage, plunging deeper inside and scrambling his senses further. He was reaching, reaching for that place where he could finally give up, finally explode into the nothingness that she was providing. He was getting so close…

She pulled away her face, pushing hard against his arse so he was almost one with the freezing glass. He mewled as he panted, making gasping noises he had never imagined he would make. The wanting, the sheer need was consuming him, taking away all shame. The new feelings were overwhelming, and he was shaking apart with a total focus on her, and only her.

"Shhh, darling. Just a moment more, and I will take care of you." Somehow, she had stood and was now plastered against his back, rubbing his buttocks again. "Your cheeks are so beautiful, all red and swollen. Or should I say, my cheeks?" A deep chuckle rang through his bones and rumbled in his gut. "Then again, that would be so self-centered of me, wouldn't you say?"

He didn't know how to answer. His hysterical pants were starting to slow to whimpers, but he just couldn't think clearly enough for words. He tried to move into her embrace, but his ankles twisted in place, scrabbling for balance.

"Ready for more, then. So be it. I will remind you, once and for all, that you are mine alone." Her hands reached for his, casting finite at the sticking charm and pulling him into her arms. She turned him and swept him around as though he weighed no more than a pillow, pushing him onto her throne. He found his hands stuck once again, this time to the chair back, and she curled his legs in so he straddled the seat on his knees, legs wide and open. He felt her fingers go to his soaking, slick cunt, and his mind blanked as he began babbling and pushing his hips back shamefully, begging for her touch.

“Ah, ah, darling. You are at my command, my… pleasure.” He was moved to panicked groans when her fingers withdrew, but her lips and teeth made him hiss as they began tormenting his toes and ankles. Those huge, warm hands began long, slow strokes up his calves as her nose moved up his legs, leaving teasing nibbles and licks on their insides. The backs of his knees surrendered to her nips as the evil hands moved upward, kneading the sensitive inner thighs with her thumbs and reaching for her so-sensitive arse. He began to sob again as she moved up to rim him enthusiastically, losing all sense of shame as he rode her tongue. Just as he thought she’d continue to his aching clit, she disengaged and began licking up his spine, fingers digging deeply into the sides of his ribcage before reaching and raking through his wild tangle of hair. He tried to clench his teeth against the cry of pain and pleasure when one hand pulled the hair back and twisted his head to the side, but it leaked out as her lips came down on his and swallowed his protest. Teeth and tongue raged between them until she wrenched back his head, both panting at one another. A feral grin painted her face as she watched him pulling apart.

“You… are mine.” Her eyes bored into his, accepting no argument.

“Always.’

“You are made for me.”

“Yes, mon roi.”

She used her other hand to grasp her cock and began rubbing it through the slick wetness that decorated his channel. He felt suddenly like she was painting him, making him a work of her own art. Her eyes did not allow him to look away. “You are made to take me.”

“Please, yes, mon roi. You are my fire, you are… I am your… nnngh!” His eyes rolled back in his head as her cock began to stretch him. “I am your vessel!” he screamed. 

She let loose his hair and took hold of his hips with both hands, fingers sinking deep into his skin. It only took a quick moment for her to pull back her hips, and then she was sinking in again. He could only scramble as his senses tried to cope with the sudden changes, but it was too much at once. He began to pant aloud, moaning in tempo with her thrusts as she began using him. Her cock was abrading him, making his skin more swollen and sensitive by the moment. He didn’t have space to fear or understand the difference between pain and pleasure at this point. It was all slick, and tight, and speeding up, and making him closer and closer to explosion.

“You are mine,” she snarled, yanking his hips slightly further back, adjusting her stance and pulling slightly deep. “You are mine. You are mine. Say it!” She let go of one hip and leaned forward over his back, reaching around to begin plunging two fingers to either side of his clit. He was so slick, there was no stopping the slide of them.

“I am yours! Yours!” He began chanting as the pressure reached its critical point, his entire body convulsing as the orgasm began gripping low in his belly and spreading through his limbs. “Yours!” He felt lightheaded, his eyes darkening as he bent his spine as far as it could possibly go. His ass was grinding against her hips helplessly as he felt all his senses explode, as he became barely aware of her spend dripping down his inner thighs. He tried to keep riding the feeling, but he didn’t have anything left to keep his body from sliding into unconsciousness. “Yours…” he barely whispered as his eyes grew dark, and he knew no more.

-

The darkness cradled Antonin and refused to release him quickly. He didn’t know how long it took for him to come back to awareness, but it was definitely a slow process. He was in their bedroom now, the candlelight low and gentle on his eyes. He was warm, clean, and content, but he seemed to be alone at first. He didn’t have time to get worried about Hermione's absence before she walked to his side of the bed, a glass of water in her hand.

“Drink,” she said, sitting on the bed and raising his head with her arm. He passively allowed her to raise him, took a sip, and then settled down again. His entire body felt as if it were floating on endorphins, and he didn’t feel any need or urge to move. She pushed up onto the bed beside him, leaving her arm beneath his head and pulling him gently into her embrace. Her eyes seemed to follow her hands as she gently brushed through his hair, using the pads of her fingers to gently massage his scalp. He simply allowed it, not ready to try to think through the delicious fog that was insulating him from the world. He didn’t really have any wants or needs. He could just let her take care of everything.

It was only temporary, of course. He was simply not built for constant bliss, no matter how much he enjoyed visiting. Would that he could vacation there, he thought with a slight wistfulness. He smiled softly at the idea.

Her eyes caught that smile, and her smile answered him. “Welcome back,” she said quietly. “How are you?”

He thought for a moment, then stretched, feeling his nerves reconnect to his skin and muscles. “Sore, but not overly so. How are you, love?”

“Relieved, I think,” she said. “I wasn’t perfectly sure you would put yourself wholly into that. I’m glad it worked out.”

He huffed, amused. “You have yet to fail me, ma reine. Your instincts for what I can and cannot handle are flawless, as always.” His brain began to catch up with his memory. “Was that a new unreleased Wheezes product?”

“Of course. What else?” She grinned. “It took me a while to get the balance to work correctly. Polyjuice is great until you realize that it does more for shape than internals. I had to really work the arithmancy to make sure the hormone balances switched places properly. Otherwise, opposite sex couples couldn’t truly enjoy what pheremones do to boost the sexual experience.”

“I see,” he answered. “I would imagine that would cause difficulties for lubrication.”

She rolled her eyes. “Didn’t help with erectile function, either. It’s not a lot of fun if your body doesn’t understand on the cellular level that you really do like your partner.” 

A sudden thought intrigued him. "What if you don't like your partner? You know, last effort to save the relationship?"

She snorted. "It has a built in aphrodisiac, but not even that's enough for some. Good thing the Deluxe Pack will come as a combo with YouLube and Hard Up. George really does try to think of everything."

His laugh was low and tired. "Well, almost everything. I think Front-and-Centaur size enhancers were perhaps too much?"

She was a bit tired to giggle, but her shaking shoulders assured him. "Not like you needed to try them to know that."

His smirk said it all.

She sighed with a smile. "I hate to burst the bubble, but…"

He smiled. "It's alright. Ask."

"I know you've never been, well, assaulted," she said tentatively. "And that's not a specific fear of yours."

"You judged correctly. I may not fear it specifically, but I did not imagine being assaulted as a woman as in the realm of possibility." He stretched his back a moment and groaned. "I am not ready to contemplate it."

She nodded. "I would never have done that," she said fervently. "Unless you specifically requested it, I never could." She shuddered slightly and looked away. "I might never be able to, regardless."

He reached for her, pulling her chin gently with his fingertip. He looked her directly in the eye. "And I will never ask."

Her kiss was a little breathless, but he could feel something unclench in her. He let her lead, allowing the kiss to be gentle comfort and no more. They relaxed away and looked at each other for a moment.

"You are more than I ever imagined I could want, Hermione," he said seriously. "Never think I will ask more of you than you can give freely." His hand reached and laced his fingers with hers. "I am the luckiest arsehole ever to be honored as your slave."

"Flatterer."

"But honest," he said. "I treasure every moment you share with me as the true gift it is."

Her smile was gentle. "You are mine."

"Yes," he said. "Yours to care for or torment at will."

She laughed aloud, her breath warm on his face. After a moment, she shifted up and sat with her back to the headboard. “Speaking of caring, I bought some muggle ice cream.”

His eyes gleamed in anticipation. “Salted caramel toffee?” he asked hopefully.

Her grin was impish. “Triple Mango. Want some?”

He struggled to get his shaking arms to boost himself into sitting. “As if you even need ask.”

Her accio brought a pint with two spoons.

**Author's Note:**

> La reine de mon peine - French - Queen of my pain  
> Ne me quitte pas - French song title - Don't leave me  
> jamais, ma déesse - French - never, my goddess  
> ma reine - French - my queen  
> mon roi - French - my king  
> Moi Bog - Russian - my God


End file.
